


Not Afraid

by fir8008



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Dark, M/M, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1251592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fir8008/pseuds/fir8008
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Man up, won't you? How can you be afraid of this little guy?" This little guy didn't smash a plate over your head, Kris thinks. Inspired by stories about men who don't report instances of domestic violence committed by their partners, and those who do but are ridiculed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to AsianFanfics on June 18, 2013.

“ _Even angels have their wicked schemes and you take them to new extremes._ ” – Rihanna “Love the Way You Lie Part II”

Kris gave up calling the police long, long ago.  


The first time he called was when Suho smashed a plate over his head. Kris was bleeding from the head, red blood staining and caking his blonde hair. He called the police out of fear Suho would hit him again. The police came and all but laughed at him. “How can you be afraid of someone so small?” “You probably started it.” “Be a man, why don’t you? That little guy isn’t scary.” Kris had to drive himself to the hospital. All the while he replayed the police officer’s words; ‘that little guy’ didn’t smash a plate over your head, Kris thinks.  


Everything used to be so perfect. Kris met Suho in college. Kris was there to study business. Suho wanted to be a psychologist. They seemed to complement each other perfectly. They were both fiercely dedicated to their work and they seemed to revolve around each other. All of their friends thought they were perfect for one another. They moved in together after college. Their relationship seemed picturesque.  


It started slowly. Kris would put his keys down but then they’d move across the room. He would ask Suho why he moved them but Suho would deny touching them. Or Kris would relate some memory to Suho but Suho would argue about details and convince Kris he had misremembered. These little mind games started to wear on Kris, and the man found himself becoming more and more paranoid as time went on.  


The verbal abuse came next. Again, it crept up slowly on Kris. Suho would drop comments belittling the way Kris went about his business and Kris felt embarrassed. Kris dropped a plate once, the china broke into hundreds of pieces the second it hit the tile floor of their kitchen.  


“You fucking idiot.” Suho hissed, shoving Kris out of his way, broom in hand. “Can’t you do anything right, you world class fuck up?”  


Kris was stunned by the anger in Suho’s words. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, unsure of what else he could do. He felt terrible. What had he done to elicit this sort of a response from the sweet loving man he called a boyfriend?  


After that, it became normal for Suho to curse and insult Kris. Kris acted like Suho’s barbed words didn’t hurt his feelings but he almost broke down in tears at work when one of his co-workers asked how Suho was doing. It was so strange. In public, Suho was still as charming and friendly as ever, but when they got home this ugly Suho would rear his head and Kris would be bombarded with negative remarks and stabbing words.  


The physical violence exploded after that. They didn’t argue frequently, Kris tended to endure Suho’s verbal abuse in silence. One day Kris dared to retort and Suho threw an alarm clock at his head. It had missed him but Kris’s heartbeat didn’t slow until Suho was fast asleep three hours later. He never thought Suho would ever exhibit physical aggression against him. He was scared.  


Kris thought it had been a freak occurrence but then they had another fight. Suho smashed a plate over Kris’s head and blood started spurting. Kris had called the police, shaking with terror. The police officer had practically laughed at him. Kris had driven himself to the hospital; his hands shook as they gripped the steering wheel. He had gotten his head stapled and bandaged and was given an antibiotic cream for the cut. He’d gone back home warily, but Suho and his car were absent. Kris fell into a nightmare filled sleep in which Suho tried to really kill him.  


The next morning Kris awoke to find Suho in their bed, peacefully sleeping. Kris swallowed the scream in his throat and went to take a shower. He locked the door and tore down the fabric shower curtain, only leaving the thin plastic sheet. He didn’t want to be snuck up on. When he emerged from the shower, Suho was awake and sitting at their kitchen table serenely eating breakfast. Kris was bewildered as he dabbed the cream onto his cut. Was this the same person who had attacked him in a fit of rage last night?  


Kris sat down cautiously, on the very edge of the chair. His body remained tense, like an animal prepared to take flight. Suho poured him coffee and Kris resisted the urge to chuck it down the drain. Surely it was poisoned. Kris only pecked at his food. He was starving, but he was too freaked out to eat what his partner set before him. At some point Suho got up and walked over to Kris. Kris froze as he felt Suho’s slender fingers curl into his blonde hair. Was he going to tear the stitches open? Or tear his hair out by the roots? Kris’s heart slammed in his chest.  


Suho delicately pressed his lips to the stitches. “Wufan,” Suho breathed Kris’s Chinese name. “Please, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Don’t leave me. I’m so sorry.”  


Kris looked up at Suho. His angelic face was drawn in repentance. He felt his heart clench unhappily. How could he stay wary of Suho? Again, Kris convinced himself that Suho’s outbursts were freak occurrences, hopefully ones that never repeated.  


How wrong he was.  


Kris gave up calling the police. They only scoffed at him. He thought maybe if he were closer to Suho’s size they would give him a second look. But he towered over Suho, he looked stronger and fiercer. In any other situation, he fit the profile of an assailant. Suho, with his delicate baby’s breath features, played a victim perfectly. Who would believe Kris when he said Suho was hurting him? Scaring him? Abusing him?  


Kris picked up extra shifts at work if only to stay away from home longer. He left before Suho woke up and returned after Suho had drifted off into sleep. Sometimes Suho would be awake and they’d fight. Suho would accuse Kris of a variety of things ranging from cheating to other shady business transactions. These fights would often result in things thrown around the apartment before Suho retreated to their bedroom. Kris slept on the couch exclusively now.  


One of Kris’s coworkers asked Kris if he was alright one day. Kris was puzzled and replied he was fine. Later in the bathroom Kris discovered a bruise, an alarm clock shaped bruise, on his face. He kept his head bowed the rest of the day, shame and embarrassment heating his skin. He was ashamed of his dysfunctional relationship.  


The physical altercations were becoming more frequent and increasingly violent. Suho threw a glass bowl at Kris and Kris had sat for hours after the fight pulling glass shards from his cut arm. His fingers bled from the pulling and he had painful scabs for weeks. He stopped going to the hospital. They would just laugh at him. Pathetic Kris Wu, the man who couldn’t even stand up to his significantly smaller partner. Who could sympathize with him?  


He asked himself sometimes why he didn’t fight back. His first thought was that Suho would run to the police and Kris would be hauled off in handcuffs. Suho would cry self-defense for causing Kris’s wounds and given their contrast in size Kris would lose that legal battle. His second thought was that he promised to never hurt Suho in any way. The thought of breaking that promise made Kris’s stomach flip. His third thought was how he could never bring himself to fully hate Suho.  


Kris didn’t hate Suho. He had once loved Suho with his whole heart, his whole soul, his whole existence. Somewhere, the Suho that Kris had fallen madly in love with was still there. This ugly, abusive Suho had taken his place, but Kris knew the Suho he loved was there. So even as Suho sliced open Kris’s cheek with a steak knife which Kris had to treat himself, even as Suho froze Kris’s bank account leaving Kris stranded in another city while on business, even as Suho set fire to Kris’s possessions in jealous fits, Kris loved him.  


Slowly, Kris found himself alone more and more. His coworkers didn’t talk to him much unless it was necessary. Kris even thought they whispered about him behind his back. He’d show up for work sometimes late, looking as if he’d been dragged through a war. He knew that his coworkers probably thought he was doing much worse to Suho and Suho was only protecting himself. He came home to an empty house. He rejoiced at first; he was free, at least momentarily, from Suho’s whirlwind of fury. But when Suho came home he smelled like unfamiliar cologne and Kris’s heart sank. Kris found himself weeping bitterly into a couch cushion as he tried to sleep. Suho was all Kris had left and now even Suho was slipping away from him.  


Everything came to a head one night. Kris came home to a fuming Suho. Suho had accused him of cheating and though Kris denied it Suho continued to rage. Kris stood in the center of Suho’s anger, enduring. Suho threw dishes at Kris; the china shattered at his feet and nicked his skin. Still he stood there. Suho broke all of the mirrors. Suho took a pair of scissors and charged at Kris. Only then did Kris attempt to ward off Suho, but Suho still managed to plunge the sharpened blades into Kris’s shoulder.  


Suho kicked Kris’s crumpled form as Kris yanked the bloody blades from his shoulder. “I hate you.” Suho seethed.  


He left Kris lying and bleeding among the broken glass. Kris felt the tears drip down his cheeks and flow into his ears as he cradled his injured shoulder. The blood stained his pale skin. He stared into one of the broken mirrors. Even if the mirror had been intact, Kris would’ve seen how broken he was. It had been a year, Kris realized, since Suho first began to tell him he had misremembered things. The paranoia, the verbal attacks, the physical attacks, the bank meddling… Kris had forgiven Suho for all of it. He didn’t know, and may never know, what prompted Suho’s radical change in character.  


Kris hiccupped out a sob as he remembered a different Suho, one who smiled at him tenderly and kissed him sweetly. He remembered the Suho who glowed with happiness when Kris had been given his first promotion. The Suho who never swore at him or stabbed him with scissors.  


“ _Hello, my name in Kim Suho. What’s yours?_ ”  


“ _Kris Wu._ ”  


As Kris lay there, surrounded by broken promises and his shattered heart, he wonders if he can pick up the pieces.  


“ _I think we’re going to get along very well._ ”  


_A blush crept up along white cheekbones. “I hope so, Kris.”_   


Kris shuts his eyes and remembers, as the pain starts to ebb away.


End file.
